This is the column I wish I’d read last December. I can’t believe so much time has passed. Almost a year ago, I called my divorce attorney for the first time and told her I wanted to get the divorce process moving — fast — that I’d already wasted too much time in indecision and heart wrenching limbo.
The process has been anything but speedy, and I’ve lived in limbo for two years. Just think of all the things — people, places, loves — that I could have experienced in that amount of time if I’d given myself the chance to start healing. Instead, we drew it out. Flip-flopped a lot. We let fear be our guide instead of rational thoughts. I tried to remember the good times and forget the last three years of bad. In the process, we hurt each other more, because we let hope live in a lifeboat while our two ships floated to opposites ends of the earth.
Please, don’t be like me. Minimize pain. Maximize healing. Here’s how:
1. Do what you mean. Mean what you say.
Until you are 1,000 percent sure you actually want to go down the horribly sad, thorny road of divorce, don’t even let those hurtful words slip from your lips. In anger, we say all kinds of things. But telling your partner that you want to leave her (forever) and divide the life you’ve created into assets and alimony payments isn’t something you can ever take back. It’s a line that’s been crossed. Don’t say it unless you mean it with all of your broken heart.
2. Get an attorney.
A lot of couples believe they can handle the divorce process on their own. And there’s a lot of truth to that. It’s not really that complicated, especially if you don’t have kids together. But the thing many couples don’t consider is their evolving (crumbling) emotional state. I don’t even want to look at my final divorce decree much less have to create it. I don’t want to think about shared custody of my daughter and how we’ll have to divide Christmas and Thanksgiving. All that makes me want to whither and die. And you just don’t know what you can handle until your in that situation, staring down a document with a whole lot of scary words, phrases, and finalities. An attorney is your advocate, your voice when you can’t speak clearly because you’re sobbing uncontrollably. It’s one less thing to worry about. And that’s worth a lot.
3. Don’t drag it out.
In psychology, there’s a phrase called decision fatigue. It basically means that a person is so overwhelmed with the pure quantity of decisions before them (big and small) that their brains are just unable to make any more choices. Even what to make for dinner becomes trying and stressful. When you drag out the divorce process, you’re at a constant state of indecision. And your brain is always working trying to decide if you should stay with this person. Is he right for me? Do I still love him? Can we make it work? While your brain is trying to come to some type of resolution on this incredibly large life choice, the other choices before you become debilitatingly hard to manage, like, say: Where to live? What car to buy? And what to order at Whataburger? The other thing, and this is a biggie, is that the longer you drag it out, the less happy you’re going to be. I guarantee that joy is hard to muster when you’re constantly weighing and considering the future of your marriage after saying you wanted out.
A very wise counselor asked me a few months ago: “Sarah, is it fear or love? Are you staying with him out of fear or love?” I couldn’t answer the question. I really couldn’t.
Fear has stopped me from doing so many important things in my life. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life letting it dictate my choices or the people I date.
It takes a massive dose of courage to do the really hard things in life. I’m still working on becoming brave when it hurts (and it usually does). At least at first.
As always, please write to me with your questions on love, relationships, and life at: xsandoscolumn@gmail.com.
XOXO
Sarah
It’s true that some individuals don’t have the intellectual and/or emotional aptitude to represent themselves in a divorce case. But before engaging an attorney to squabble with a spouse over disputed issues, consider whether your differences are of such magnitude that you would rather put money into a college fund of an attorney’s kids, or a college fund for your own kids.
I agree with that. If you can handle it, do it. It’s just hard to know what you can handle until it’s too late.
I got my divorce pro se. But I’d been a legal secretary for years, and as far as divorces go, it was amicable. The only difficulty I encountered was some rudeness from the courtroom staff, who obviously did not like pro se cases. They’d rather deal with the attorneys they know, and that’s understandable.
Agree with Maggie on rudeness. Some judges and staff will pick apart a pro se’er for a minor error, but completely excuse an attorney’s major error.
There is a suit pending regarding pauper’s affidavits. Under the Texas Constitution, a litigant cannot be denied access to the courts merely because he is too poor to pay filing fees. In that case, he should file a pauper’s affidavit (aka “affidavit of indigency”) and filing fees must be waived unless the affidavit is challenged.
Several litigants filed unchallenged affidavits through legal aid attorneys, and left with agreed divorce decrees saying, “It is ordered that each party shall pay his own costs”. The Tarrant County District Clerk (TCDC) takes the position that where the decree contains this language, it overrides an unchallenged pauper’s affidavit; that is, the party has AGREED to pay his/her own costs. Thus, the TCDC has attempted to collect filing fees from those whose pauper’s affidavits went unchallenged (if their decrees contain this provision).
Several of these folks sued the TCDC. They argue that the decrees’ language saying each party must pay his/her own costs is just “boilerplate”. The question arises: If such language is mere “boilerplate” and is not intended to mean what it clearly says, why the hell did the attorney put it in there?
Family law has been dumbed down, and much of it is actually conducted by secretaries making selections in form-generating-software without legal knowledge of the consequences of their selections. Big bucks; poor results.
I am SO incredibly proud of you for your openness and honesty about this terribly difficult time. I unfortunately know from experience how hard this is. Please know you will ALWAYS be stronger than you think you are in the moment, and you can overcome anything and everything.
I love you and miss you terribly and I am just a phone call away.
xoxoxo
Jocelyn